Honour of the King
by M.J.P. Smith
Summary: Those left behind must pick up the burden and take on the future, but what about when those fallen only desire the past? For his honour and vows, Lelouch vi Britannia remains in his homeland, ready to raise an army under the nose of the Emperor himself. But will it be the Empire he battles, or something more sinister lurking the shadows? Rated against the future.


**Honour of the King**

**Part One: Zero**

**2020 CE**

Her position, one inherited from her late brother, is an uneasy one. Diplomatic relations with the Empire of Japan while hiding her involvement with the terrorist group plotting the downfall of several world governments; a task she never thought herself capable of. That was before the power of Geass. It manifests as many things, but in this case, it is the power of absolute control over human beings. But this power is not hers.

This young woman, once known only as the Fourth Princess of her empire, now holds three places in the world. The first is that of a victim of the Power of the King, a secret wish placed on her to allow her control over her words and of the political situation in the Far East. The second is that of an ambassador from the Holy Britannian Empire in searching out new sources of fuel and diplomacy in the Far East. Her third role, and perhaps most important is that of a devoted younger sister; one in search of that older brother.

Three years ago, the ambassador's brother vanished in the aftermath of a failed revolution by the mentioned terrorist group: The Order of the Black Knights. While he is officially listed in military records as missing-in-action, the Britannian royal family considers the matter closed and the Prince dead. That made things easier. Unknown to all except those who rate it, it was he who placed the curse of Geass on his sister, and he who turned on his homeland for the promise of Zero, the mastermind of the Black Rebellion and the Battle of Tokyo.

And here, before the young woman and her Knight, stands the man who can, will, and has changed worlds.

"Hello, Nunnally vi Britannia." He pauses. "From your reaction, I take it you know who and what I am."

"I know I see the terrorist Zero," she answered levelly, her hands trembling as she slowly reached down.

"That you do," he agreed.

"And I see the face of a murderer, his mask. You've killed hundreds of thousands, and for what?"

"For the end of the Empire. For the death of the Emperor."

"How can you say that so coldly," she exclaimed.

"Because the Empire cares only for itself. The Emperor cares not for the effect his actions have on the world. He has forfeited his right to rule by being unwilling to die."

"Would you kill the Emperor, my father? Why?"

"Princess, I would kill the Emperor. I have tried and succeeded at killing Charles zi Britannia. His blood is on my hands, but he refuses to perish."

The news was clearly a shock, the Princess' hands dropped down and behind her back. "You killed the Emperor? But he's still-"

"Alive? No, far from it. He is no longer alive, nor is he dead. That man will not accept death. Charles has gained the power of immortal life at the expense of one of my greatest allies. No matter how one may try to end his life, it will keep returning to him anew."

"That's preposterous. Who would believe such a thing?"

"One who knows what I know, Princess, can believe anything. I only ask that you trust me and come with me, leaving behind your ties to the Britannian Empire. Can you do this?"

She stood there several moments before answering. This is something she'd been waiting for - but not from him. "I could never go with you. I'm waiting for someone... someone who I would never refuse if such an offer was made. And for that person..." The Princess brought her hands from behind her back swiftly, her Knight moved nearly as quick, trying to be a shield for the Princess if something went wrong. "I will refrain," she says, calm as the rest of the conversation, as she fires.

The single loaded bullet, a very small twenty-five caliber round, flies out of the tiny gun the Princess brought to bear directly at Zero. Her Knight, following the show, shields the Princess and pulls his own sidearm, a large caliber semi-automatic handgun; a reproduction of a model popular in the last century. Zero, using the mere quarter of a second before the bullet impacts his body, ducks, allowing the bullet to strike the most reinforced part of his outfit, his mask. The Princess, shocked to see Zero still moving, drops her now empty Derringer-style pistol and steps back wearily. It clatters to the ground in silence as her Knight continues to shield, his weapon at the ready, green eyes frozen on Zero.

Zero picks his head up, stares at the Princess, and the mask cracks where the bullet bounced off of his forehead. The crack expands vertically up and down the mask until it breaks into two nearly equal parts, each falling to his sides.

His unusual violet eyes bore into them, glowing with a bird-like symbol; his hair is jet-black and blood pours from his forehead down over his nose and to his chin before collecting and dripping onto the outfit below. He stares at her, his mind racing as he figures out the possible words to say to her. What could he say. This, like so many other things, was planned for, but never expected in the wildest estimations.

She just stands there, too shocked to even drop. Then, tears began to flow down her face.

He took up a position of fealty before the Princess, a formal bow with one knee and one fist on the ground and an arm crossing his heart, saying, "I return to your side at last, Nunnally."

* * *

**2017 CE**

A fairly average man stood at a large podium, gave an exaggerated cough and spoke clearly, "And now, his Royal Majesty, the ninety-eight emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Emperor Charles Zi Britannia." All stood at once. The whole room shook with anticipation as the Emperor, an imposingly large and heavily muscled man, strode out slowly with a small procession of guardsmen. The guards dispersed on the slightest nod, leaving the Emperor to face the loyal billions. The Emperor turned to take sight of a coffin behind him. He lifted the cover to show a younger man resembling his own sharp features. He turned his back on the dead man, stoic and controlled, to address the procession and the world.

"All men," he began, "are not created equal. Some are feeble, others are powerful. Some are weak, others are strong. There only exists this virtue: those born to power and those with none. Humans are inherently separate and different. That is why we kill. That is why we seek blood and hate and madness and sorrow. That is why we seek that which others hold. Inequality is not wrong; equality is! What is the democracy that the Europeans desperately grasp on to? A popularity contest wherein beauty is the sole matter! And the Communism of the East? Nations of dullards meant to strengthen the weak at the expense of the strong! But not Britannia! We fight, we compete. Our evolution is ever-lasting and propels those with power into greatness. Britannian alone marches into the future! Britannia alone will turn the tide of untruth against the whole world! Britannia alone will fight on! We will all fight on! We shall take what is ours for Britannia. Britannia will prevail! All hail Britannia!"

In the Great Hall, the deafening roar, thousands of echoes of _All hail Britannia_ come over the young Prince's hearing. He sits perfectly still, violet eyes glaring over the crowd despite the painful crackling in his ears. _All hail Britannia, indeed, _he thinks as the men and women in the Hall mindlessly chant along with the Emperor. In his mind's eye, there are thousands on thousands of sheep, not the loyal Britannians before he himself and the royal family.

"Take this to heart," the Emperor continued, "as Britannia moves forward without the First Prince. All hail..."

The Prince, not finding the right moment to escape follows his numerous older brothers' example of staring brightly over the loyal subjects below. He couldn't afford to look bored, tired or weak in the presence of anyone present. Another call of _All hail Britannia_ and crowd begins to falter.

Sensing the dying calls, the Emperor ends his speech. "For truth and glory, all hail Britannia!"

One last call, as enthused as the first, of the favored pledge of loyalty and the procession of aristocrats and royals began to break up. The young Prince's brothers left first, the privilege of being the oldest; followed by his older sisters. He, the Eleventh Prince, was far from last, but still waited his turn to exit. In front of him, he heard worried whispers of how the imperial military was going to operate without its High Commander. Behind him, he heard groans about going up in rank despite their relatively low status. The young Prince was appalled by both conversations for being disrespectful to the dead, but let the matter rest for now. A swift return to the Aries Villa would calm him. Perhaps he could catch his -now- oldest brother for a game of chess.

The superficially depressing line broke into each successor walking to their respective vehicles. Some younger Princes and Princesses demanded their drivers move the vehicles to them, like grade school children being picked up from school. The young Prince lamented their spoiled nature and noted to himself, with only a little falsehood to that idea, that he never acted like that. The most childish thing he could recall from his years was demanding rematch on rematch in Chess for each loss.

He opened the back door and said, "Alfred, we'll be going to the villa. Nunnally will be along shortly."

In the driver's position, Alfred simply said, "very good, sir. Will Baron Ashford be joining you today?"

"Not today." The young Prince caught himself. "Well, perhaps later, but she is doubtlessly busy with the _pleasantries_ of the aristocracy."

"Very good, sir," Alfred responded, noting and ignoring the young Prince's tone of voice on mentioning Baron Ashford's duties.

Being three years younger, the Prince's sister is behind her brother in succession by a great deal. Where he is the Eleventh Prince, she is the Fourth Princess; but their age difference of three years still places him ahead of her own standing for the throne. Neither let it bother them. But this difference forces his sister to remain several minutes longer to be allowed her chance to leave. The Prince passes the time by occupying himself with spying on the other members of the royal family and the aristocracy. Duke Maxwell of Mexico is engaged in conversation with Nineteenth Prince Finch of the fi Britannia branch about his work in the refining of natural gas as a more efficient fuel source for domestic use. Princess Cornelia li Britannia chats openly with Sir Guilford, her personal Knight, on recent military news and their up-coming involvement in West Asia. A small group of younger royals, easy to see through, are pretending to appreciate each other's company. The Prince takes in the moment like a true brother, thinking that it is almost cute how they imitate so well; then notes that just about anyone past his position as Eleventh Prince probably isn't the best role-model.

Finally, the Prince's sister emerges from the line of more than one hundred members of the imperial family. She spots him before her chance to separate from her siblings and waves. He silently waves back and taps his watch, amused at her flushing light-pink reaction.

She moves over to him and pats him gently on the head for his prank saying, "you shouldn't have so much fun today of all days."

"I understand," he agrees, "but it's not like brother Odysseus and I were close."

"You should still feel for him, Lelouch," she said.

"I do. Let's get going, Nunnally. We can talk more back home," he told her, insisting so much just to get out from under the eye of the family. He... doesn't much trust many of them.

He took his sister's hand, helping her into the vehicle with little effort and climbed in after she was seated. She asked Lelouch if they should wait for the rest of their group, but Lelouch just said that they got to the funeral themselves, so they can make it home the same way. The drive was silent except for Nunnally reaching for a tissue. The plastic container crackled and her light, lady-like snort lasted under a second.

"Master, Mistress, we have arrived at the Aries Villa."

"Thank you, Alfred. That should be all," Lelouch said.

"Very good, sir. Shall I remain at your disposal within the grounds?"

Lelouch pondered this a moment. "Only if you should choose. Otherwise, take the rest of the day for yourself," he said, offering a hand to Nunnally and fishing in a pocket with the other. He pulled his sister out of the vehicle and handed Alfred a wadded clip of money. "A bonus, no strings attached," he said with a smile. That charming smile inherited from his mother, and perhaps Cornelia for his mother's lack of ability to teach it before she passed into memory, that told his target 'accept my terms or suffer for all time.'

"Sir, I couldn't possibly-" He tried to fight it.

"You can and you know it," the Prince said curtly. "Consider it a gift, if it make accepting any easier. Something the Nunnally and I wanted you to enjoy."

The much older man sighed and accepted the clipped sum, closing his hand around it. He didn't bother to look at it past a glance, but the outer most bill was one of the most un-common bills printed: a bank note redeemable for either fifty Imperial Pounds in gold from a state-run bank or goods sold in state-approved stores; that is to say, most of them. It is a considerable gift of disposable income for his upper-middle class standing of sixty thousand Pounds made per year.

"Have a good day, Alfred. Please send Penny my best."

"Of course, sir."

Lelouch guided Nunnally inside as Alfred drove off to the garage to store the custom armored car. She said, "I think he thinks you pity him."

Lelouch quickly countered with, "maybe that's for the best. I pay well because I want to hold on to competent, loyal help."

"That's a cold way of looking at it," she says slowly.

"Perhaps, but it is how I've held our branch together for the last eight years."

He refers to an event which happened in the year 2009 of the Imperial Calendar. The deaths of members of the royal family occur every once in a short while, but two killings such as the First Prince and Empress Marianne in less than ten years is unheard of in the last ten generations. The First Prince was recently killed, though it was covered as a battlefield death, by a still unknown assassin while in the European Union. Eight years ago, one of the many Empresses was killed within the grounds of the Aries Villa. Empress Marianne vi Britannia was found gunned down in the Villa by her children and servants on 8 January 2009. The bullet holes and stains on the marble never quite vanished and Lelouch still sees them, though no one else does. Five years after that, his plan began in ernest.

"Laser-guided karma, brother. It'll get you some time or other," his sister admonishes.

"When my time comes, I hope to be ready for it," Lelouch says jokingly. "Jeremiah certainly made sure I was able."

Nunnally strode away on the balls of her feet, ignoring her brother's cheap joke at his military instructor and guardsman's expense, as Lelouch retired to the dining hall for something to munch on. He entered the preparation area and began pulling different ingredients off shelves and out of massive refrigerators. Fresh hot bread, a cold steak ready for slicing and several jars of condiments and toppings.

Within a couple minutes, as if the whole place is alarmed, which it is, the head chef complete in the uniform of his profession and rank, came marching into the lavish kitchen. "Master Lelouch, if I have asked -pleaded- a thousand and one times, please leave preparation of meals to me and my staff."

Lelouch looked at him, frowned slightly, flipped and surrendered a knife and his cutting board to the man. "Of course," he said disappointingly. Lelouch didn't like having so many servants, but putting people out of a job to suit his whimsy is something he refuses to try. It appalls him far more than even having all these servants does. And it happens all the time in the Empire.

The chef, in moments only, sliced the meat, bread and had toppings ready. A job that would have taken Lelouch minutes took the man seconds. "Voila. A mid-day snack fit for the King."

"Thank you, Lawrence. I'll try to stay out of your way in the future," he lied.

"As always, sir." The chef bowed before cleaning up, leaving Lelouch to his meal.

Lelouch took the plate -and a bag of dried fruit- with him to the main study. It's a massive room filled to the brim with tomes of varying topics from chemical engineering to biology to religion and more. The Prince chose a favored, light read for his day, _Multi-Person Pan-Theistic Solipsism_ by _Dr. J.B.C. Long_. Light was perhaps not the right word, but the Prince does read. Often. And if nothing else, it fascinated Lelouch in the outlandish, but provable theory that many people can share ownership in one solipsistic viewpoint. It represented a proof, outside the esoteric theory itself, that even the most maddening ideas can be shaped to fit reality as he saw it. Not the most humble theory, but it works.

Hours passed and he was made aware of the time only by the chiming of the front door's call system. It was the early evening, but it felt like midnight. Not too odd for a January's late-winter day.

The Knight of Twelve, of the Knights of the Round, the Emperor's personal guard, arrived at the Villa that evening just as the sun set. The Knight, a tall woman with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair, came calling as Lelouch ended his day. He instructed his assistant, a diligent woman by the name of Christina Williams, to allow his guests into the main hall while he dressed for company.

On his arrival, wearing what amounted to his uniform for diplomatic purposes -embroidered, relaxed robes over a tailored suit- the Knight of Twelve, Monica Kruszewski, stood at the base of the stairs into the second level of the Villa, waiting for the Prince to speak.

"What," Lelouch began curtly, "may I ask brings the Knight of Twelve to my humble Aries Villa this evening?"

She spoke politely and quickly, "Prince Lelouch vi Britannia, I have been instructed by his majesty, the Emperor, to escort Princess Nunnally vi Britannia to the Imperial Palace in Pendragon Proper at the noon hour tomorrow. May I have leave to announce this to the Princess?"

She certainly got right to the point. The Prince was stunned; merely standing, mouth slightly agape, staring.

"My Prince," asked the Knight of Twelve.

Lelouch looked away for just a moment to gain his composure. "Can I assume that your instructions are immutable," he asked slowly in dark overtones.

"That is the nature of my position, Prince."

"I see." Lelouch turned to face the top of the stairs. "Christina, please escort the Knight of Twelve to the first level study and bring her any refreshment she may desire. I'll be along shortly." He twisted around to face the much taller Knight. Having to look up while speaking doesn't affect his oratory much. "I would ask that you wait at the location my assistant has been instructed to escort you to. Nunnally and I will be along shortly."

"I hear and obey, my Prince."

The Knight of Twelve and Christina Williams left Lelouch's sight, vanishing down an adjacent hallway. The moment he was sure they were out of earshot, he let out a sigh in frustration. What could the Emperor possibly want from Nunnally?

He practically flew up the stairs, down the winding corridors, passing open doors with curious eyes, and stopped in front of a regal, faintly pink door.

Lelouch knocked softly. "Nunnally," he whispered, "are you there?"

"Come in," came a low voice from behind the door. Lelouch pushed it open to find his sister lounging on her rather large bed with a portable computer and a large stuffed -something, bright yellow bear?- under her arm.

"Nunnally," he said, "can you dress for guests? I am currently entertaining the Knight of Twelve, who has requested your presence."

Nunnally was taken aback all the same. "The Knight of Twelve? One of the Knights of the Round?"

"Yes," he answered. "His majesty has ordered her to escort you to the imperial palace. But before that, I would like to ask her a couple questions."

"All right, brother. I'll prepare myself. Please give me a few minutes and I'll be down."

"Of course." Lelouch turned to the door. "Oh, and Nunnally?"

"Yes, big brother?"

"Don't worry. I won't leave your side."

He left his sister to dress, taking a brisk pace back over the path he came by. He was stopped by a familiar face peering out of an open door, almost sheepishly.

"Lelouch," said the man, "what's going on?"

"Clovis," Lelouch said, "I am readying myself and Nunnally for a meeting with the Knight of Twelve. I would prefer a moment of peace beforehand." His tone was almost betraying his annoyance. But he shared, with good reason, his home with several of his half-siblings. Around the corner, he could see another pair of eyes, and sense yet another boring into him from behind the far wall. Sometimes, he didn't like having such a large family.

"You wound me, Lelouch," Clovis pantomimes unbearable pain. "Want back-up," he asks immediately out of his play-acting.

"Only if you stay in the compartment this time. I don't need the three of you," he heard two groans and two young woman revealed themselves, "falling out again. Use head-phones and try not to speak. The walls aren't that thick."

The older woman, his sister Cornelia, said, "I don't want anything happening to you or Nunnally. What does the Knight of Twelve want?"

"I don't know," Lelouch said honestly.

"Does Nunna need any help," asked the younger woman, Euphemia.

"No," Lelouch said. "Well," correcting himself, "she didn't express the need for help to me."

"Such a boy. That means yes," Euphemia sounded. "I'll be off," she sighed, nodding to her sister. She disappeared down the corridor in a galloping, yet graceful, run.

Cornelia waited until Euphemia turned the corner before speaking. "It just means she cares. We all do." This was a kindness she would only show on the grounds of the villa. Out in the field, she couldn't afford it.

"I know that well, sister," Lelouch said slowly. "Now, do what you will; I have a meeting to attend."

Lelouch turned down the hall; noting that his siblings would do whatever they wanted, regardless of his pleas to 'stay out of it;' so he let them be. It's not like they could say anything to stop him from taking action.

* * *

** 2009 CE**

"Announcing his imperial highness, Eleventh Prince of the Empire, Lelouch vi Britannia."

Lelouch, dressed in the flowing robes and garments befitting his position as the young Eleventh Prince, strides into the Royal Court at the announcement of his title and name. He stares directly ahead, ignoring the lower nobility and annoying the higher nobles. His gaze is focused on Charles zi Britannia, his royal majesty, the ninety-eighth Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire. He comes to a stop at the foot of the throne, bends his knee, bows his head and shows all fealty required to his father.

"Majesty," Lelouch said, "her royal highness, the Empress, has been murdered."

Lelouch looked up, staring into the disappointed eyes of the Emperor. He know that the Emperor was expecting a visit at the Court, but also know what he would do at the right cues. His brothers and sisters are brilliant and have decades more collective experience with the Emperor than he has.

The Emperor, thinking himself wise to his son's current level of thought, knew what buttons to press: dismissal, indifference. "What of it," Charles said in a deep, rumble characteristic of the Emperor of Britannia.

"Your Majesty," Lelouch said in an almost pubescent voice, "As Eleventh Prince of the Empire, I wish only to state, before the Court and for the Holy Britannian Empire, that the murderer of Empress Marianne vi Britannia will be hunted; their plan elucidated and, if need be, exhumed and blasted from the face of His Majesty's land and the world."

Lelouch's eyes betrayed fear to the Emperor for his short, but powerful speech to the court. But to the nobility present, they would remember this day as one where their fear of the Eleventh Prince stemmed from. He offered the few within his line of sight a glance with cold, calculating, dead eyes. They shivered; some turned in shame even if they had nothing to do with the recent assassination. Stories of those eyes would steep into the aristocracy like brewing tea. Slow and steady, fanning the flames of discontent.

"Indeed," the Emperor offered, "such filth does not belong in this land. Though," he said slowly, "what does your declaration have to do with myself or the Royal Court, Lelouch?" He drew out the Prince's name for effect. Subtle manipulations of the mind are his specialty.

Lelouch recognized the trap from his preparation. He dodged beautifully. "The official, military investigation, highness. It was halted on your personal orders. I wish to know why."

Charles couldn't understand this one problem. Why is his son not foaming at the mouth? He attacked the right points; showed the indifference a man of action, such as Lelouch, deems inappropriate of the influential and powerful. His son is _noblesse oblige _given form. So why? "It is not for the Court to hear. It is a matter of security at the level of the Knights of the Round. The Empress, the former Knight of One, has made many enemies in the world." It wasn't much, but the Emperor deemed that much information enough to calm the Court should any take issue or offense. Marianne had enemies both abroad and domestically; in this very city, the capital. Of the Emperor's many lovers and wives, she was most hated as the Ashford's puppet; the woman from a common branch of the noble Ashford family given status through the military. The nobility hated her Knighthood; especially her position before marrying into the royal family: Knight of One, just before Bismarck Waldstein took the position.

"Is one allowed a private audience for this information, highness," Lelouch asked blandly, now almost totally calm. His teeth stopped clicking and his legs have stopped shaking.

"One is not," Charles said simply. Why is he not burning at the ears yet? There could be only one answer: he was helped. But by who? Whom would assist this grieving, weeping boy now?

"Highness, as the current head of the vi Britannia branch of His Majesty's family, is it not my business to know the status of the investigation, if one continues?"

"You have many responsibilities as the branch head. This is not one of them. You will await the final report as any citizen."

"Yes, your highness. May I take my leave, highness?"

Charles knew this game. He brushed it aside, but openly admitted, as clear as a royal decree, that he was hiding _something _having to do with the death of Empress Marianne. With a frown directed inside his mind, he realized the only man alive who could -or would- have prepared Lelouch for this inevitable meeting in the Court: Second Prince Schneizel. Doubtless Cornelia and Clovis would try to help, but only Schneizel could ready the Eleventh Prince in such a short amount of time with so many possibilities. Charles could see it: the prepared statements and minor improvisations Lelouch was loaded with. He had the best teacher possible. If the Second Prince was anything less than the best candidate for the throne, the Emperor would have him killed for this.

"You desire this more than anything, is that right, Lelouch?"

"Your Majesty," Lelouch said slowly, "I have tried and failed this day. I thank you for the time allowed by your mercy. I hear and obey, your highness."

"I see," Charles almost growled at his failure to lure the young Prince into a trap. "You are dismissed until you can bring me something worthy of the attention of myself and the Court."

"That is my goal, Majesty."

* * *

**2017 CE**

He wanted the Knight of Twelve out of his home immediately. Why? Because the Emperor seems to be looking for a chance to rid his Kingdom of the vi Britannia line. On his arrival, his assistant and the Knight were engaged in conversation. Nothing more than gossip and the occasional hint at the Knight's latest exploit on the battlefield. Most recently, she commanded the one hundred forty fifth army group into the western Canadian Province to crush a mounting rebellion before it could begin. All very hush-hush. No need to alert the loyal subjects in the homeland that people in an _Area_ don't care for his highness.

"Ah, the honorable Knight of Twelve, Monica Kruszewski," Lelouch said entering the room, "It is truly a pleasure to have you here this evening." Noting the Knight's lack of dring or refreshment, "may I offer you a drink? Tea, or perhaps something stronger?" Lelouch nodded at a large, lavish cabinet filled with a variety of high-quality spirits and wines. A homeland speciality, Californian grape wine, stood out in the center. It's date read _January 1947._ From a time of general rationing and prohibition. Vintage, if ever the word was used well.

Without missing a beat, the Knight answered, "It is kind of you to offer, my Prince. But I must decline."

"That's all right." He turned to his assistant. "Christina, would you please get some tea for Nunnally and myself? Your choice. Extra for our guest, just in case?"

"Yes, my lord."

She scurried away, leaving Lelouch with the Knight of Twelve.

"It is interesting," Lelouch observed.

"Yes, my Prince?"

"That the Emperor would send a Knight of the Round on such a menial errand. Why not send an armored car or a squadron of Knightmares? Why the Knight of Twelve alone?"

"I cannot answer that question, my Prince. His will is my duty to carry out."

"I understand. One would think with so few Rounds, that the Emperor would retain them for only the missions of highest importance. It must be difficult."

"I do not understand, sir."

"Difficult to be in such a position, I mean."

"Sir, you yourself are in a much higher position than I; certainly you must-"

"That's what you think?" Lelouch laughed at her sardonically. It wasn't a cruel thing, just humor at the irony. "You think I, Lelouch vi Britannia, am in a higher position than you, Knight of Twelve? Please, save me the joke."

"It is no joke, my Prince-"

"Oh, but it is," Lelouch said, slightly raising his voice into a fairly well-known bellow of authority. The Prince, despite his youth, commands a voice that compels men into action. It was his choice of word and voice which conquered the former North African continent just last year; his brilliant mind which led the troops. It's really a shame no one will ever know it was him; but rather his _alter-ego_ of sorts. "I would have been exiled and stripped of my authority eight years ago, had it not been for some very well chosen words. My sister would never have gotten treatment for her ailments and would still be bound to a wheelchair and unable to see. And, perhaps, we could have one day amounted to something. Did you ever think it strange that the Brigadier General in charge of the African campaign never showed his face? You see, Lady Kruszewski, Knight of Twelve, my life is the cruelest joke of all."

The Knight of Twelve was shocked. Not a single other member of the royal family has ever spoken to her this frankly. Even she, a Knight of the Round, did not know the identity of the famed miracle-working General. "My Prince," she tried to speak, "perhaps I have arrived at a poor time." She nearly tripped over the words, trying to get her bearings in her realization that one of the finest Generals in the Britannian army, one who she personally admires for his ability to lead and his swift victories in Africa, was the teenage Prince who allowed her into his estate.

"What ever for, Knight of Twelve? Besides, Nunnally should be down soon."

"Did someone say my name," said the young Princess as she entered the room.

The Knight of Twelve stood up and bowed. "Princess Nunnally vi Briannia, thank you for seeing me at this hour."

Nunnally, sensing that the Knight would remain in that position until she gave permission to sit said, "You are most gracious, Lady Kruszewski. Please," she said, gesturing at the seat behind the Knight.

Nunnally sat beside her brother on the small sofa and the Knight of Twelve sat opposite the pair in a matching reclining chair. She had to make a visible effort not to recline into the deep seat.

"Princess-"

"Nunnally," Nunnally said curtly.

"N-Nunnally," the Knight said shakily, "I have been instructed by his majesty the Emperor to escort you to the imperial palace tomorrow at twelve-o-clock, noon."

"Were you given a reason, "Nunnally asks.

"You are to be part of a selection of delegates going to the Empire of Japan to negotiate for a new fuel source. They call it Sakuradite," the Knight said, only slightly botching the pronunciation of the new fuel.

"Ah," Lelouch said, "the blessing of the cherry blossoms. A fine decision of fuels, especially for the new generation of Knightmare frames. I was wondering when we were going to move from microfission."

"You've studied their language, my Prince," the Knight asks.

"Nunnally and I have spent much time there in the Britannian zone with the noble Ashford family. There, we made a connection with the Emperor and his family. We are on good terms with both."

"My Prince, you have come to the reason yourself," the Knight says, taken aback.

"Naturally," Nunnally says, "big brother is the smartest man in the nation."

"Perhaps except for his majesty," he pauses respectfully. "And the Prime Minister," Lelouch says, forcing a blush to form, feigning deference for his father and -now- eldest half-brother.

"Older brother Schneizel," Nunnally asks.

"I could never seem to defeat him in chess. And I haven't had the chance to play him in a half-year. It's a shame really, that business in Europe." If nothing else, he would turn a blind eye to Europe for now. If all goes well, he could command there soon. But then... since when did anything go well for his branch?

"Of course, my Prince," the Knight of Twelve agreed. "But," she continued, "I have other news."

"Oh," Lelouch bade her continue.

"Lord Gottwald and yourself are to be part of the delegation, as per your aforementioned affiliation with the Emperor of Japan and the noble Ashford family."

"I see. Then, if you know the answer, is Nunnally being escorted to the capital tomorrow, rather than the two of us together?"

"At Lord Gottwald's request, you'll travel with the Knightmare battle-group _Valencia _as pilot of a new model Knightmare."

"A new Knightmare? Who is producing it? The Special Engineering Corps?" Lelouch palmed his face. "Please don't tell me the Lord of Pudding is designing it."

"No, highness, Earl Asplund is not the manufacturer," the Knight of Twelve says, reacting instantly to the Earl's well-known nick-name. "The Ashford Foundation was commissioned to manufacture a post-sixth generation Knightmare, but they caught wind of the proposed pilot and... They have yet to proclaim the seventh generation as of now, but it is expected very soon."

"Lady Kruszewski, you are very knowledgeable about the new Knightmares. I am impressed and thankful for the information," Lelouch said, half because it is true, and half because he wanted to see the Knight of Twelve's reaction; a faintly glowing blush.

"Thank you, my Lord. Your praise is wasted on me."

"Nonsense," Lelouch said, hamming it up. "You are one of the most experienced Knights in the Empire. My praise should merely add to the mountain you should expect daily." _Like all the rest. Layer it on and you may find being stabbed in the back at least slightly less likely. _"If that's all, then I believe I have some work to do."

"Yes, my Prince. I will return tomorrow at twelve-hundred to escort you," The Knight of Twelve said, nodding to Nunnally.

"Then I shall ready myself, Lady," Nunnally responded.

The Knight of Twelve, not nearly as flustered now, bid her farewells to the Prince and Princess, nodded thanks to Lelouch's assistant, and left.

"You can come out now," Lelouch said in the direction of the fireplace. The marble and brick structure, probably weighing near enough to one thousand kilograms, slid away from the wall smoothly to reveal the Second and Third Princess and the Third Prince, all huddled up against the moving slab. "It figures," Lelouch said, again rubbing his palm against his forehead.

"This again," Nunnally says. "I suppose it's true; you have to get older, but not grow up." She giggles a bit at the humor when Clovis frowns. Euphemia and Cornelia just grin at one-another and turn back to Lelouch.

Cornelia said, "Lelouch, what are you going to do?"

"Is that not obvious, sister?"

"It isn't. This is _you_," she emphasized the word, "we're talking about."

"Exactly. Tomorrow, Nunnally will be escorted to the palace. I will join the _Valencia _in that new Knightmare, and you are, as always, free to do as you please. I am in charge of this branch, not yours," he said at Cornelia, "or yours," this time to Clovis. "Please take whatever actions you deem appropriate as per our contract."

* * *

**2014 CE**

Lelouch glared around the table, his gaze intimidating to even the hardened military minds occupying some seats. He sat at the head, Nunnally vi Britannia to his left, Cornelia li Britannia next to her, Euphemia li Britannia next, and Clovis la Britannia. To his right, next Emperor of Japan and confidant Suzaku Kururugi, Baron Amelia Ashford, Earl Lloyd Asplund, Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald and, at the far end of the table, A green-haired woman called C.C.

"You know why you're all here. I'll get to it. I finally have evidence of Marianne vi Britannia's killer."

The silence was response enough,

"C.C.," Lelouch said, staring down the table, "as I understand it, you and mother were close. Would you care to tell the others what you found?"

C.C. said, "I suppose so. Marianne was killed by Charles' brother, V.V., an immortal in the form of a ten year old boy." Her statement, much like her general disposition, was to the point.

No one said anything for several moments. Then, "Highness," Jeremiah Gottwald said to his student and lord, "what is this? Lady Marianne was killed by an immortal? What other information do we have that can back this claim? I admit my resistance to the concept, highness."

"No, wait," Cornelia said, "while immortality is a hard idea to swallow, it is wholly possible. The day of," she hesitated, stumbling over the words and memories, "her assassination, Empress Marianne told me -ordered me- to remove any and all guards from the villa. She confided in me that she did not want to risk a single life with the secrets she was to speak about with this person. Could it be..."

"It certainly can," said Lelouch. "The Emperor has been conducting research into human augmentation using an ancient and barely understood power. As we don't have much information," he glared at C.C., "all we have to go on is the name of his study: the Ragnarok Connection." He waited for response, then went on. "The word breaks down to mean something to the effect of 'the end of the ruling class' or 'death of the gods.' I can't say how literally we should understand this concept, but we can assume that Charles zi Britannia is attempting to change the balance of power in the world by removing something in his way. The question is what."

"The European Union," Baron Ashford offered.

"Perhaps. They are a major superpower, but I doubt research having to do with this witch involve a political madhouse such as the EU," Jeremiah put in.

"Watch your tongue, Orange-Boy," C.C. said.

"Keep a civil tongue as well, witch," he shot back.

"I will have order," Lelouch said, slamming a large bound book on the table comically lightly. He managed to get attention. "Are there any other ideas? Speak up."

"Japan," Kururugi said, "for the Fuji mines and the Sakuradite. It's the only fuel source in the world able to power fifth generation Knightmares at one hundred percent efficiency. The Empire is always searching for powers to hold over everyone else. I should know," he said, referring to his own strange position: mutually loyal to a son of an enemy Empire.

"A man after my own heart," Earl Asplund said, a grin forming over his face. "Maybe we should get working on new superconductors," he glanced at Lelouch almost pleading for better funding.

"What about the criminal serial-killer," Clovis asked. "Didn't he go after corrupt officials ten years ago or so?"

"What are you suggesting," Cornelia exploded, sliding her chair harshly out from the table. To each of her flanks, Euphemia and Nunnally flinched.

"Nothing," Clovis defended. "I just wanted to say that he might have set this up thinking the Lady Marianne-"

"I'll not have you expand that thought any farther," Cornelia said flatly.

Clovis conceded the point, giving a look of bland surrender, but said, "I'll not take orders, sister," trying to establish his position as equal at the table. The two were not equal. In fact, Clovis was ahead of Cornelia in Britannian class by a great deal, being a Prince, rather than female of any sort, even royal. Theirs is not a kind world-superpower. Never-the-less, he strove to shake off that shameful title and upbringing and treat those present, even those whom society decided were below him, with respect and equality; not something one would expect from any Britannian. But then, who would expect a meeting of minds such as these to take place to plot against the Empire.

"Fine," Cornelia said, "but you'll not connect Lady Marianne with such slander."

"Agreed," Clovis said brightly.

Lelouch looked around the table. "Any other conjectures?" No one spoke up. Several looked around wondering if an idea would reveal itself. "That settles it. We just don't have enough information. From here on out, we use what we have and search for it."

The assembled people, Nobility, Knights and Royalty all took heart.

"That said," Lelouch said, only slightly shakily, "I would mark this day as the founding of a new order." He this sink in. Lelouch had thought about this for a long time up until now. Five years as head of the branch and the power and insight into the truth of Britannia that comes with that nearly forced his hand regarding this decision. "I name thee, all present, High Knights of the Order of the Black Knights, effective immediately."

Reactions were varied. Nunnally and Euphemia were shocked, but held no opposition in their hearts when it came to Lelouch. Cornelia and Clovis were nearly ready to swear loyalty to Lelouch right there for the patience and intelligence he's shown thus far. Lloyd Asplund, bouncy as always, just accepted his lot in life as a much needed move on the part of his continued ability to research and build anything he wanted; not that he isn't loyal to the vi Britannia's, but he had different priorities. Suzaku Kururugi, Amelia Ashford and Jeremiah Gottwald were already loyal to Lelouch for one reason or another, and simply took this as their newest orders. C.C. just stared thinking, _There it is. He really did it. Now might be the time._

"And now," Lelouch went on, "I must necessarily induct you all into Knighthood." This was met with murmurs of approval and Lelouch went though his own version of the ceremony as passed down from Britannia.

"This will, from need, be a short ceremony and you'll only be Knights according to myself and those here tonight." He lined them up in the dark of the candle-lit room. "Please bow." They did so, regardless of status or class, before the Prince of Britanna. "I, Lelouch vi Britannia, self-dubbed Zero," he used the word as a title, "the first of equals of the Order of the Black Knights, an order dedicated to revealing the darkness of the world unto the light, and the lies unto truth, do dub thee, Nunnally vi Britannia, Cornelia li Britannia, Clovis la Britannia, Euphemia li Britannia, Lloyd Asplund, Amelia Ashford, Suzaku Kururugi, Jeremiah Gottwald and the trusted C.C., High Knights of the Order of the Black Knights. Please rise, High Knights." They rose, with exception of C.C., Knights of highest honor and loyal to Lelouch vi Britannia. Lelouch approached C.C., offering his hand. She took it.

_Do you want to back your claim with power?_

* * *

**2017 CE**

In the last three years, it has proven a necessity to expand the Order of the Black Knights within Britannia and overseas. Not that this is an easy task. The first ten members, their leader, Zero, included, were collected in a long-term investment. Lelouch vi Britannia chose his confidants carefully and spent years knowing them in and out. This isn't as sinister as it sounds, but can be seen as a type of evil when examined. Once, in late 2014, Lelouch explained the system in terms of a pyramid scheme to his High Knights.

Take a four sided pyramid, a tetrahedron. Place a High Knight at the top most corner. That High Knight will, had in the last three years, gather three trusted Knights, inducted into the Order, and made a three-person cell under them. With the exception of the leader and C.C., powers unto themselves, this made for 34 members down to level 'C', all trusted and proper Knights. Now, take the 24 members in the High Knight's cells. Those Knights are told to gather three trusted people of their own to rally to the flag of the Order. That is an additional 72 members in level 'D' on top of the existing 34. Repeat enough times, and with enough weeding of untrustworthy members, and you have another E-216, then F-648, then G-1944, then another H-5832 and so on, each new member gathering three. To this day, the letter group 'H' is filling out, with massive variation to the three-person cell rule, with more than fifty thousand members in a world of nine billion. For most, this is enough to start a nation on. For Lelouch, he would take no less than a filled out level 'Z' to reach the number needed to topple the Emperor's plans. That number would be somewhere on the order of two-hundred million. Enough that their army would have the man-power to crush opposition and enough brain-power to keep their peace and rid the world of the darkness the Order was set on bringing to light. But that is a dream in a world already his. For now, the Order is operating beautifully.

Now build in security to this set-up. In a given four-sided pyramid, the member at the top knows his three cell-mates plus one member of another cell for lateral communication as well as vertical. The three under him know the boss, the cell under each man respectively, and one man in adjoining cells for communication. If one person goes down, the only people compromised are in one cell to the side, below him, and up to the boss. This is a total of seven people who this traitor or spy compromises, excluding himself. But, under a purge or a security break of almost any size, communication stays alive. Even in a situation where a thousand members are compromised, unlikely, any message can still be shunted around bad parts of the line and eventually reach the top or bottom, depending on direction taken.

When Lelouch reminded his siblings that they should to what ever they want, in accordance with their contract, he was reminding them that communication was dangerous in the Aries Villa and that any regular business should be handled by sending a coded message down and back up for security. So when word reached him, via the cell below the High Knight and the one below that, he was miffed that his own home was an inadequate location for private conversations. It was from Suzaku Kururugi.

_Zero, Japan is ready. The Empire won't roll over for Britannia any time soon. High Knight of One._

Of course Japan is ready. The Emperor of Britannia knows enough to time these matters of so-called diplomacy well. Well enough to make the mouse spit at the cat.

Tomorrow's the day. He would have to leave the villa along with two of his High Knight to establish diplomatic relations, officially, with the Empire of Japan. An interesting gambit if one ever existed. In ten or fifteen years, diplomacy would be a given between the two Empires. But for now, sons of the superpowers would have to play house to get their parents to coo and capitulate. But before that, Lelouch wanted one last word with the Knight of Twelve.

"Lady Kruszewski," Lelouch called out as the Knight was leaving.

She turned, now alone and face to face with the young Prince. "Yes, my Prince?"

"Knight of Twelve," he said, glancing down and reaching for his face. He removed a pair of matching, violet contact lenses from his glowing eyes. He stared at her.

"On the honour of the king, Lelouch vi Britannia commands you, Knight of Twelve-"


End file.
